Make It Known

Chapter 7: Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

Chapter 7: Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

there ain't nothing in this world for free

oh no, I can't slow down, I can't hold back / though you know I wish I could

oh no there ain't no rest for the wicked

***

Just before 8 am Monday morning, Gavin is waiting for the elevator when I get there.

Light blue dress shirt, black slacks pressed to perfection. Why does he always have to look so immaculate?

Oh crap. I really, really don't need a repeat performance of last week's embarrassingly hot ride up to the fifteenth floor.

"Morning, Ms. Collins."

"Good morning, Mr. Stone."

Calm, cool and professional.

"Restful weekend?" His tone is completely neutral.

"Something like that." Alison and I got a little drunk Saturday night, when I confessed to her the details of my eventful week. "Yourself?"

A small smile tilts up the edge of those full lips. "Something like that."

And then we follow the early-morning herd into the elevator, and as we press ourselves in with a dozen other people, I remember what happened last time and my mind short-circuits because he's behind me, his back to the rear wall of the elevator, and I can feel his warmth, the lean hardness of his chest against me, his exhales a hot tickle at the back of my neck.

I must be imagining it when I hear him curse a little, under his breath.

My eyes flutter shut as the tip of his nose brushes the shell of my ear. My breaths are shallow, because as another couple people pile on, I trip a little, faltering, and his large, warm hand splays across my hip, steadying me. I swear it burns, through the thin material of my dress, and maybe it's in my head but he keeps it there for longer than necessary, and when it falls away, his fingers and mine brush together gently at my side and Christ, this isn't supposed to make me so damn flustered.

Floor after floor, like slow motion.

I try to remember to breathe, but the heat from his body pressed against the curves of mine is maddening. It's just nature, okay? Because he's a very attractive male and I'm a normal woman with hormones, damn hormones, and he makes me want to turn around and press my face close to his and... stop it, right now.

When we finally get off that cursed elevator, I catch him run a hand through that thick brown hair, let out a small breath. I swear his face is flushed. But he greets Dani as he walks past the reception desk and strides away to his office, and I pretend nothing happened, like always, and go back to doing my job.

***

"Roger," I begin with a sigh when he walks into the office with his coffee, "Why didn't you warn me that Detective Rowley was gonna try to get into my pants?"

He shakes his head, because he's too old and too tired for this. "Collins. You're young and female. What do you want me to say?" He looks uncomfortable, like something is crawling up his backside.

I roll my eyes. "This is the twenty-first century. Are you seriously telling me that as a woman in journalism I still have to use my looks to get a lead?"

He shrugs, tossing his bag onto his chair and taking a long sip of his coffee. "I wish I had something to tell you. This industry isn't better than any of the others, Collins. But I think you can take care of yourself just fine."